Turn and Turn Again
by SecretChances
Summary: "Those I know I see anew and the space between us is reduced because I am human, and you are human too." Miranda Underhill returns to an ailing Boris seven years after she left him when he needed her most...
1. Let Me Out of This Dream

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. You no sue. Royal Pains belongs to USA Networks and it's writers and producers. I am merely borrowing the characters for a little fun and amusement. Also, the songs featured in this story do not belong to me. They belong to their writers and artists. Anyway, I promise to return the characters unharmed. They have endured enough over the past few episodes lol. Miranda Underhill is my creation (hehe that sounds weird) and thus, belongs to me. She's the only one.

**A/N:** This story takes place after the Cuba episodes some time later in this season. I don't know what happens after Cuba but this is what I'd like to happen. This is also my first RP fanfic so please bear with me as I try to write Evan, Divya and Boris correctly.

**Rating:** T just to be safe may take a T+ turn sometime in the future chapters.

**Pairings: **Jill/Hank (because they're awesome) and Boris/OC. I will say that I am an Evan/Divya shipper but the pair will only flirt/argue in this story. sorry.

_This is unbeta-ed so all mistakes are mine. The song featured in the chapter is _Sleepwalker _by Adam Lambert. This is dedicated to Bagpipe_mouse and ddane over on the Royal Pains forum on both of whom have not only given me Boris's age but have opened my eyes to the man Boris is behind his facade. Thanks guys!_

_Hope you enjoy! Please R&R!_

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**Chapter 1: Let Me Out of this Dream**

The sterling silver ring glinted in the light of the bathroom. Her slender fingers were still curled around the knob into the wooden vanity drawer. She wasn't sure how the ring had managed to work its way back into her life but it did and it picked a hell of a day to do it. She sighed and turned to the mirror, her hand still on the drawer. The party the night before had taken a toll on her. Her curly, red, often proclaimed "hooker hair"—she could thank her mother for that analogy—was a tangled nest on top of her head, the pony tail she had worn the night before did nothing for the look. If anything it made her appear more hung over then she felt. At that thought, her stomach lurched. One too many vodka shots, she mused as her tummy rumbled queasily. Not a good way to start the day. She was happy she hadn't thrown up yet though, that was a plus.

She returned her attention the ring in the still opened drawer. She pursed her lips into a thin line and decided it wasn't worth the mulling. She reached in and grabbed it, drawing it up into the palm of her hand. She closed the drawer with a little more force than intended, the ancient vanity groaning in annoyance.

"Sorry," she mumbled, as she sat down on the edge of her bed.

She shrugged and slipped the ring onto her left middle finger. It was snugger than expected, the thick band dug into her skin a little bit, but she ignored it and went on about her morning duties. She'd only been the in the Hamptons for a few days but she was already behind her schedule. By today she was supposed to be moved into her new house and she should've already unpacked and ran a good nine miles on the sandy beach but her plan was shattered by the events of the party and the fact that her benefactress—_no, Miss New isn't a benefactress—_or rather her former babysitter, was out of town for the weekend. She rolled her eyes and got up to get dressed. She decided a nice pair of crisp khakis and a blue linen shirt was fine for the task at hand. She grabbed her purse, her glasses and her keys before she headed out the door of her motel in Worst-Hampton.

She chuckled when she saw her car parked in the parking lot. Most of the automobiles were ancient compared to her shiny, brand new, red 2010 Chevy Camaro, a gift from the wonderful Miss New. She grinned as she opened the drivers door and got in. She loved having friends in high places though she distinctly remembered that she vehemently protested the gift. She even went so far to deny money for a better hotel room which Miss New, again, offered. She was a grown woman, while rather poor for the Hamptons, she could manage the ritzy place by herself. She_ had_ lived there before, after all.

The engine revved on her car and she peeled out of the parking lot. Traffic going to her work wasn't as bad as she thought it would be but it was pretty congested. She arrived only a few minutes late but wasn't reprimanded as her boss pulled in at the same time she did. They exchanged nods of greeting and walked in separately. As soon as the door closed, her secretary scurried up to her with a handful of pink message slips in her hand.

"Ms. Underhill, these are all for you." Her secretary, Amanda, practically shoved them at her, her voice a few decibels too high. "Also, you have someone waiting for you in your office."

She winced. "How long have they been here?"

"Only a few minutes. He says he knows you."

"Right. Thank you, Amanda. If you could, hold all calls until I he leaves, please?" Amanda nodded and scurried back to her desk.

Miranda Underhill walked to her office quickly, eager to meet this man. She turned a corner and her eyes narrowed. She couldn't place the curly headed brunette but she was hungover enough that her memory was impaired. She entered the glass paned room with her hand outstretched in greeting.

"Hello, I'm Miranda Underhill. What can I do for you?"

The man took her hand with a confused expression. "You don't remember me, do you?"

Miranda blinked as she sat down in her desk chair across from him. "You'll have to refresh my memory."

"Last night? The party?"

The proverbial light bulb flashed on above her head. "Evan...Lawson, wasn't it?"

He smiled. "CFO of HankMed."

"How could I forget?" She laughed. "So, Evan, what can I do for you?"

"You said I could come to your work. To see you."

Her forehead crinkled. "I did?" She groaned and rubbed her face and temples to ward off the impending headache. "I was tipsier than I thought I was."

He chuckled. "I think we both were." He paused for a few moments to allow her to compose herself. Their eyes met, and he continued. "I'm actually here for my brother, Hank. He said you had some information about a client of his."

Miranda perked up immediately and pulled her key board out from under her desk. "What's his name?"

"Boris," Evan said simply.

Miranda froze, her fingers hovering over the black computer part. "Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz?"

Evan blinked in amazement. "How did you-?" He began to ask but waved the question off. "Never mind. Yeah, that's him."

She pasted on a smile and pushed the keyboard back under her desk. "I don't have any information for you, sorry."

She watched as Evan processed the new info—or lack thereof. She soon grew tired of watching him sit there with the same confused expression, so she went about her business of filing and getting her office cleaned up. It amazed her how much of a mess she let the space get. It was atrocious. But then again, she wasn't one for organization. She only cleaned when she was nervous or stressed and she was nervous. She was _beyond _nervous. At that moment, she felt damn near hysterical.

"I don't understand. Hank was sure you'd know."

She stopped organizing her file cabinet and turned toward him. "I know what everyone else in the Hamptons know, and that is about nothing." She shrugged, and sat down trying to hide the fact her hands were shaking. "For as long as I can remember, Mr. Ratenicz has been very private. You know, he's held exclusive parties, fancy dinners, all of which cannot be accessed by normal people." Evan nodded and looked at her expectantly. "Look, he's a German 'blue blood' who just happened to inherit a multi-billion dollar banking franchise. There's not much to know about him."

Evan's face contorted with thought. She half expected him to say something but instead, he simply slapped his knees and got up from the chair. He walked over to the door and was about to leave when he turned back around to face her.

"How long have you lived here?"

"My whole life," she replied. "Well, I moved away seven years ago give or take a few months."

"What brings you back?"

She chuckled. "Privacy."

He looked impressed. "Hey, I know a nice restaurant nearby. If you're not doing anything later tonight-"

"Evan," she walked up to him and put a hand on her shoulder. "You're a nice guy but I have business to attend to."

"Maybe tomorrow?" She shook her head. "Right, well, when you're not busy," he reached into his jean's pocket and pulled out a small rectangular piece of paper. "Here's my card." He handed it to her and she accepted. "Actually, it's a HankMed card but you can get a hold of me there too."

She grinned and patted him on the shoulder and sent him on his way. Once he was out of ear shot, she shut her door and sat back down at her desk. Boris. The name sent shivers down her spine. Her hands were still shaking when she decided what she was going to do. She reached down under her chair and yanked on the strap of her purse. She slung it up onto her desk and pulled out her phone. She hadn't dialed the all too familiar number in years but she figure it was the same. She placed the phone to her ear and waited. A minute went by and still no answer. She drummed her desk impatiently with her fingers, her hands no longer shaking.

The two minute marker went by and suddenly, a voice sounded on the other line. "It's me. Yes, it's good to hear from you as well. Tell him I'm coming over and I don't care what he says. Thank you."

She pushed the end button, grabbed her purse and exited her office with a flick of the light switch and the click of her door.

"Amanda," she said as she stopped at her secretary's desk.

"Yes, Miranda?"

"Cancel everything for the day and tell the boss I'm taking a sick day."

The petite blonde nodded her head. "Do you need anything?"

She shook her head, her red hair bouncing on her shoulders. "No, thank you. I'll see you on Monday."

Amanda waved at Miranda's retreating figure. The older woman knew her worker was confused but so was she and she needed to figure out what was going on. A HankMed employee was asking her for information. Something was wrong. She got into her car and twisted the ring around her finger absentmindedly. He had a lot of explaining to do. She started the car and squealed out of the parking lot. Down the street, she passed a cab with one Evan Lawson, CFO of HankMed, in the back seat. She didn't see him stare as she revved the engine and swerved around the cab.

What seemed like a few moments later, Miranda clicked the locker on her remote and walked through the entrance of Shadow Pond. It was still as expansive and beautiful as she remembered it, though she hadn't been there in over five years. Her high heels clicked on the marble tiled floor and echoed against the walls. She turned a corner and found herself in his office. Not much had changed. It was rearranged from what she knew of it. The book shelf and other random pieces of décor he had collected over the years were in different places but they were still the same. She moved around the room cautiously for fear of him showing up. She was about to leave to find Dieter when she stopped at a picture on the wall before the door.

She gasped. It was a picture that had been taken before she had left all those years ago. She still looked the same but she could see the young face held the belief that she was living a fairytale. She scoffed and left the room. She _had_ been living a fairytale but it all fell apart far too fast. She sighed. She could still remember their last meeting, the feel of his hand on the back of her neck, his fingers playing absentmindedly in her hair. She shook her head. _Miranda Underhill_, she scolded herself,_ get your mind out of the past._

She sighed again, rounded another corner and careened into a hard, short, little body. She stumbled backwards and met the framed eyes of Dieter, the tiny man servant who had been employed in the Jurgens-Ratenicz family for years.

"Dieter! Are you okay?"

He brushed himself off with a regal air. He had been working for Boris for a little too long. The German was beginning to wear off on him.

"I am perfectly all right. Thank you. Now, will you come with me please?"

Miranda straightened out her shirt as butterflies began flapping in her stomach. She cleared her throat and followed the man. At one point in the past, she and Dieter had been close. If she ever needed anything, he'd be more than happy to oblige. Her leaving had thrown a wrench in their relationship. She could tell. She could see it in the way he carried himself. If Dieter was a sign of what was to come, she wasn't sure if this was a good idea.

"How is he?" She said suddenly remembering the fact that she had come here because of Evan and Hank Lawson, the latter she hadn't even met.

"He is doing well." It was a simple answer but she knew her suspicions and that answer was a little more forced than what it should've been.

That scared her more than she thought it would.

* * *

"Where have you been?"

Evan Lawson froze in the living room and turned toward the occupied seat in the kitchen. Divya Katdare was starring at her computer screen and he wondered how she even knew he had walked in. He tried to be quiet but obviously that hadn't worked quite the way he wanted it to.

"Where do you think I was?"

"Snooping where you don't belong." She looked away from her work and took off her glasses. "You left the file opened on counter. Hank is on a call or else he would've seen it before I did."

"It's not what you think."

"Oh it's exactly what I think." She gracefully slid off the bar stool and approached him. "Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz is off limits and is Hank's patient. I don't think he'd approve of you stepping into his territory."

He held his hands up in surrender. "I saw the name out of the corner of my eye when Hank was in here earlier."

She gave him a once over but pushed it no further. Instead, she walked to the folder, which was still opened, and closed it and placed it in the file cabinet where she knew Hank kept it. She locked the drawer and placed the key in her pocket.

"Now, what did you find out?"

Evan visibly relaxed and sat down next to her. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He shook his head. "Nope and I thought since I'd already met her..."

"You could butter her up."

"Exactly! It's like you read my mind!"

"But it didn't work." He shook his head again. "She knows him somehow."

"Oh, I have no doubt about it. Divya, you should've seen the way she acted when I said his name. She got all quiet and she said his full name...perfectly! It's like she's known him his whole life or something!"

Div giggled slightly as the older Lawson brother, Hank, walked in. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing at all," Divya said quickly as she began to gather her things.

"Evan?"

"Miranda Underhill." Evan heard Divya groan quietly. "Sorry, Div," he said turning toward her.

"What about her?"

"She knows Boris."

"Yes, and?"

"Oh you know her?"

Hank sat his medical bag down on the floor and rounded the island toward his baby brother. He clapped a hand on his shoulder and brought him closer to him.

"What have I told you about overstepping boundaries?"

"To not do it."

"Exactly. Now, how do you know Miranda?"

Evan relaxed for the second time in a span of ten minutes. "I met her at a party last night. Went to see her this morning."

Hank stopped mulling around the kitchen and turned toward the younger Lawson. The coffee he started brewing went unattended. He walked to the place across from his brother and physician's assistant. Both Evan and Divya both starred at their boss (and older brother) like he had gone mental.

"Miranda is here?"

Evan nodded slowly. "She works at some research place near the pier."

The doctor grabbed his phone and walked out the door. Evan and Divya exchanged a look and followed him. This was about to get interesting and neither one of them wanted to miss it.

* * *

The walk got longer and longer and quieter and quieter and Miranda was feeling a little disheartened. Something was wrong. Dieter was talking about it and she just couldn't put her finger on but something was...off. That wasn't the right word but her mind wasn't at full functioning mode. All she could think of was what was going on and why she hadn't been informed. She suddenly knew how Evan must've felt in her office that morning.

"You still have the ring."

She didn't notice until he spoke that they had stopped. She looked and her stomach dropped to the floor. His bedroom. She was about to go into his bedroom. From what she remembered, he never stayed in any prolonged time in his room. It was either his office or other various places in his expansive mansion. Her suspicions were correct. Something _had_ happened. She could feel the tears prickling her eye lids. No, she told herself, no, she wasn't going to do this.

She glanced down at her left middle finger. She had almost forgotten about the ring. It was such a part of her that she didn't even notice it was on. She gazed at it longingly, her eyes memorizing every detail of it.

After a long while, Miranda nodded. "I haven't worn it in a very long time." She shrugged and payed attention to Dieter's reactions. "I don't know. Something about today made me put it on."

"It would've been your anniversary."

She blinked but before she had time to react, Dieter had opened the door and was motioning for her to go inside. She grudgingly obliged. She got a few feet inside and the door shut and Dieter was gone. She cursed herself for doing this. She cursed herself for putting herself through this. It wasn't fair to him or to her or to anyone else involved.

"Miranda Underhill," she jerked back to reality. "You have returned."

* * *

And with that, the first chapter ends. I shall have the second chapter sometime next week. If not, come after me with pitchforks and flamming torches, k? k.


	2. Every Traveler Please Come Home

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. You no sue. Royal Pains belongs to USA Networks and it's writers and producers. I am merely borrowing the characters for a little fun and amusement. Also, the songs featured in this story do not belong to me. They belong to their writers and artists. Anyway, I promise to return the characters unharmed. They have endured enough over the past few episodes lol. Miranda Underhill is my creation (hehe that sounds weird) and thus, belongs to me. She's the only one.

**A/N:** Okay so after seeing "Mano a Mano" this story is now AU to a certain extent. I will attempt to weave some things from the new episodes into the story but for the most part, it won't happen. lol sorry.

**Rating:** T just to be safe may take a T+ turn sometime in the future chapters.

**Pairings: **Jill/Hank (because they're awesome) and Boris/OC. I will say that I am an Evan/Divya shipper but the pair will only flirt/argue in this story. sorry.

_This is unbeta-ed so all mistakes are mine. The song featured in the chapter is _Turn and Turn Again _by All Thieves. This is dedicated to Bagpipe_mouse, ddane, and superario over on the Royal Pains forum on both of whom have not only given me Boris's age but have opened my eyes to the man Boris is behind his facade. Thanks guys!_

_Hope you enjoy! Please R&R!_

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Chapter 2: Every Traveler Please Come Home

She stepped closer to the very large, very luxurious four poster wooden bed frame. A single lamp on the bedside table lit up the dark room in about as much light as a small army of candles would but her eyes still couldn't get used to the lighting. It was far too dark and mysterious and foreboding. She took a deep breath in, her legs suddenly feeling like jelly. It smelled like him, distinctly masculine, _his_ masculine, with the scent of scotch, expensive cologne and, she sniffed, Monte Cristos. Illegal Monte Cristos from Cuba. She wondered why he still had Cuban cigars when it had been—she counted off in her head—almost eight years since he'd been last.

Her eyes landed on the bed and memories flickered like wildfire before her. Her mind was playing tricks, forcing her to relive the intimate and the nasty, the sweet and the condemning, all at once. She blinked, finally used to the light, and forced a smile. He was still handsome, she could at least see that in the darkness. He hadn't always been a "silver haired fox". No, she remembered when his hair had been jet black and it made the green in his eyes stand out like emeralds against pale skin. She also never remembered him having a goatee but she had to admit, it looked damn good on him. The fake smile suddenly melded into a genuine one. She ran her hands through her mess of hair then comfortably rested them on the bed frame to prevent them from shaking.

"How long have you been in the Hamptons, Miranda?"

"Only a few days, Mr. Ratenicz." She mentally slapped herself.

"I think you know me better than that." She heard the scowl in his voice but she also heard the compassion, the longing, the...betrayal. She suddenly felt lower than pond scum, as the saying went.

"I got in on Wednesday," she said as she avoided the awkwardness.

He nodded. "What brings you back?" He asked dryly.

And there it was, what she had been dreading since she had shown up. He was more detached and more distant than he had been before she left. Her heart broke but she convinced herself she didn't care for him like that anymore. She cared for him as a friend. A friend who was hurting, or sick, or all of the above. With Boris, one couldn't know what was wrong with him. He hid behind his masks and his walls, and she wondered how she had managed to penetrate them all those years ago. Then she realized, he didn't hide when they first met. She was let in willingly and when she left, she started the foundation. She wondered, though, how much of that was her because the distancing began when they were still together. She stopped musing. It was too much to figure out with an already inebriated brain.

She let out a short burst of breath that resembled something along the lines of a short, non-sounding chuckle, and answered, "The same thing that took me away."

"Freedom?" Again, uninterest.

Miranda's lips curled up in a half smirk. "Something like that."

He nodded. "How long do you plan on staying?"

"I've moved back permanently."

He stiffened as the full brunt of her words hit him. She noticed but she was surprised when she didn't feel anything. She figured she would feel bad that she was throwing a wrench in his perfectly made plans but she inferred that after today, she wouldn't ever see him again. If things went her way, that's how it'd be and she was fine with that.

She opened her mouth to say something, to break the awkward silence, when the door to Boris' room burst open to reveal another curly headed brunette, one who Miranda hadn't met yet. She figured that by the looks of it, it was Hank Lawson the doctor brother to Evan Lawson. They were similar in appearance. This brother seemed to be more put together and "laid-back" then the unusually loud and hyper Evan, if she remembered the party correctly. This brother also had green eyes where Evan, she was sure, had blue.

"Ah, Hank," Boris sat up in bed. "Have you met Miranda? She's an old acquaintance of mine."

She glowered at the regal German.

"No, I haven't." He approached her with an extended hand. "Hank Lawson."

"Miranda Underhill." She took the hand and gave it a firm shake.

"I have been trying to get in touch with you for weeks."

Boris' eyes landed on her. She could tell he was curious but that was only because she had seen that look before. Many times. She foundered for a few moments under the shock but recovered quickly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I've been out of cell phone reception for a while. You should've left a message with Mrs. Newburg. I'm sure her name was in the file."

Hank shook his head. "I tried her but she didn't know where you were either."

"That's why you leave a message," she muttered. An eyebrow went up in annoyance to prove her point.

Hank ignored it and went on. "Miranda, what do you know about Cuba?"

Her face hardened, her eyes glazing over with a myriad of emotions. She could almost feel Boris falter in his stare and it made her all the more angry. Hank looked confused and if she hadn't been so mad, she would've laughed.

"We are _not_ talking about Cuba. Not now. Not _ever_. If you really want to know, ask _him,_" she jerked her head in Boris' direction, "because I will _not_ discuss it. I simply came here to see if you," she turned to fully face the man in the bed, "were okay. Apparently you're not, but you seem to be in good hands." She paused as Hank's face brightened in appreciation. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Dr. Lawson, Mr. Ratenicz, I really must be going."

She walked away from her post at the foot of the bed and approached the door. She stopped a few feet shy of it and turned back around. She locked gazes with Hank who was still confused.

"If you need me in the future, Dr. Lawson, leave a message with Mrs. Newburg." She turned to address Boris who was still sitting there starring, emotionless. She could've hit him. "Thank you for allowing me into your home. I promise it won't happen again."

With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out the door. The two men watched her leave with scrutiny and she could've sworn she could feel their eyes following her all the way down the hall. She didn't mind if he didn't want to see her but to announce her as an _acquaintance_ was fuel for the fire that was now burning in the pit of her stomach and the back of her mind. _How dare he?_ She thought as she maneuvered through the immaculate mansion. _How_ dare_ he objectify me like that!_ She was fuming. _I am not a little toy he can just..._Her thoughts trailed off into oblivion. Why did she care? She wouldn't see him again, Shadow Pond was easy to avoid, so why did she care?

She mulled the possibilities as she exited the front door. She got halfway to her car only to realize she had left her purse on the floor of Boris' bedroom which meant, she couldn't drive or get into her motel room. She groaned and crumpled onto the curb.

"Ms. Underhill!" She turned at the sound of a distinctly British voice coming up behind her.

"Miranda," she corrected.

The British voice stepped fully into the sun and out of the shadows of the walkway. The voice was beautiful, prettier than she ever hoped to be. Her raven hair flowed down past her shoulders, perfectly coiffed, every hair in it's place and shiny. Miranda had never seen such shiny hair or such copper skin. She'd had her fair share of "Spanish lovers" and those men had nothing on her. The redhead's eyes grew to cup saucer size as she stood up and held out her hand.

"Divya Katdare." They shook hands, Miranda still in complete awe.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Might I ask what hair care products you use?"

Miranda heard a snort coming from the breeze way. She smirked and stepped to the side of Divya to see Evan leaning against the stone with his hands in his pockets.

"What? It's a legitimate question!" She stepped back in front of Divya. "Never mind."

The, Miranda assumed, Indian woman chuckled shortly. "You'll have to excuse Evan, he has the mentality of a twelve year old."

Miranda smiled. "I understand. What can I do for you Ms. Katdare?"

"Please, it's Divya."

The younger woman shrugged. "Okay, since we're on a first name basis. But, what can I do for you?"

"I'm Hank's P.A." Miranda starred at her. That didn't mean anything to her and she wondered why the other woman had even mentioned it. "Physician's assistant?"

"Right," she motioned to Divya in understanding. "Physician's assistant. Gotcha. So, what is it that you want? Information on Boris?" Divya feigned confusion while Evan kept leaning against the breeze way stone. Miranda sighed. "I can't help you."

She began to walk in the direction of the road when a voice stopped her."Is he sick?" Evan had finally moved from his spot and took a few steps toward her.

She spun around quickly. "Sick? Why would you think that?"

"Because we just got back from Cuba."

At that revelation, even Divya was stunned. "I thought you were in the city for the whole weekend!" She exclaimed, her proper London upbringing thrown out the proverbial window.

"_Cuba_?" Miranda seethed. "You just got back from Cuba?"

Evan shrunk back from her anger but nodded in affirmation. She took a deep breath, her own expertly made mask shooting up to guard her. Cuba. He'd been to _Cuba._ She hadn't had a cause to go back in the house before but now she did and she was fully prepared to take advantage of the situation. She held out her hand to Divya once more who took it and gave it a firm shake.

"Divya, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope we can see each other in the near future." She turned to Evan. "Evan, don't do anything stupid."

Divya chuckled. "I highly doubt he'll keep that promise."

The grin on Evan's face faded and he looked astonished that the two women wouldn't trust him. Miranda just sort of smirked.

"I can see that Divya. See you soon."

The red head let go of the Indian's hand and stalked back into the mansion.

* * *

"What was that all about?" Hank asked as he approached the end of the bed.

Boris didn't answer for a long time. He just starred at a nondescript place on his wall. He didn't want to admit it but he wanted, no he felt like he _needed, _to tell him. He was his doctor after all. But something felt wrong. It was private. It was his own. It wasn't Hank's. It was bad enough he knew about Marisa. This could be prevented. He sighed heavily and leaned back into the down pillows. For being a German dignitary he felt smaller than he ever had. Miranda never failed to do that to him.

Miranda. He felt like smiling but refrained. Miranda had been his life at one point. She was his fire. She was his spirit. The things she had shown him. The things he had experienced, the happiness, the amazement, the wonder. She had revealed so much to him. He had learned so much from her. It was a give and take relationship, one he had actively participated in.

After a while Hank shook his head and broke the silence. "You're right, it's none of my business."

"No," he finally looked at Hank. "No, it isn't."

The younger doctor nodded in understanding. "So, what happened in Cuba? The first time?" Boris shot Hank a glare. "Still none of my business, right, I get that, but this could prove to be a turning point."

"A turning point for what, Hank? Marisa already diagnosed me."

"But you came back. Why?" The curly headed brunette set his hands on the wooden bed frame.

"My health is still failing," he replied nonchalantly.

"And you don't want her to suffer?"

"I want her to be able to help without emotional attachment."

A thought suddenly occurred to Hank. "You don't love her, do you? You stayed behind to explain why you left the first time and why you had to leave again. You tied up loose ends," he paused and shrugged, "so to speak."

Boris sighed again. He never used to be this easy to read.

"Marisa and I were never in love, you are right about that. But we did have a relationship."

"A physical relationship," Hank spoke the unspoken ending hanging after his statement.

The German nodded rather solemnly. He wasn't sure ho much more he would've revealed but as soon as Hank had stopped talking, a flurry of red hair burst into the room. Hank barely had time to brace himself.

She crossed the girth of the room quickly. She was seeing red and all thoughts in her mind were anything but rational. It could've been worse, she reasoned in her subconscious, at least I'm not contemplating flat out murder. No, she wasn't thinking killing. She was thinking hurting. She wanted him to hurt. She wanted him to hurt physically, mentally and she wanted him to know how she felt all those years ago.

She reached the right side of the bed and gave Boris—_that pompous German!_-a resound _**crack**_ across his jaw. She pulled back her hand, her palm stinging, her furious heartbeat throbbing in the soft, unworked skin. Her anger subsided a small amount. She still seethed enough to be shaking.

"You went to Cuba? What, was one time not good enough?" She yelled.

Hank grabbed her by the shoulders and wrestled her away from him.

"Miranda, what are you talking about?" Hank asked as he struggled to pin her arms behind her back.

She jerked loose from him, shooting to Boris' side. "What, you screw Marisa once and she takes your money? She takes your heart? She took you away from me and you go running back to her? _How dare you_!"

She raised her hand to smack him again but he grabbed her wrist. She yanked it away roughly, still not finished with her tirade. Hank had the notion to call for Dieter but all coherent thought was a jumbled mess. He wasn't quite sure what to make of Miranda and what to make of Boris _and_ Miranda. The two couldn't seem more different especially with her flying off the handle like she was. Boris was quiet and shy. Miranda was fiery and loud. Something wasn't right with this picture.

He was fully intent on musing some more when Miranda's voice pulled him out his reverie.

"Tell me, Boris! Tell me how you slept with her, came back, and pushed me away!"

"That's not how it happened," Boris said fiercely. She stopped her raving, her hands still shaking.

"But you did sleep with her!"

He didn't deny it but he looked embarrassed, like a young boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar. She remembered he didn't like confrontation but this was cause for one. She glared. If she was going to be nice, he better tell her everything, and she wanted _everything._ No short cuts, no omissions.

"Okay then, how did it happen?"

He sunk further into the pillows that lined his headboard. Hank watched cautiously, ready to jump in if she got violent again. Boris turned to him.

"Please leave us, Hank."

The younger man was about to protest but he saw the pleading look in the older man's blue eyes. Hank nodded and backed out of the door. Miranda and Boris were alone now. She paced the floor beside him, annoyed, aggravated, and highly disappointed. If there was one thing for certain, Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz never failed to bring out the worse in her. She wasn't sure if it was because of his personality, emotional baggage, or the fact she was so in love with him. She would run the world and back for him, do anything he'd ask her to do. There were very few people who she would do that for and he was first on that list.

He starred at her for a few moments before she had even noticed. When she did, she stopped pacing and sat down on the bed beside him. Her hand itched to feel his skin. As if he could hear her thoughts, his hand snaked across the bedspread and into hers. She looked at it, her's enveloped in his. He had weathered hands, the skin tanned and pulled taught over sinew and muscle and tendons. She fought the urge to smile but lost, a small grin tugging her lips upward. She had memorized his hands. She had memorized the way they fit into hers when they had danced, her mind flashing back to that vivid day. She sighed and pulled away as their gazes locked.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" He looked away from her. The smile faded. "That would be a no."

She went to get up. Boris grabbed her and sat her back down again. She starred, as she had been prone to do lately, as his hand traveled up her arm. She shivered, goosebumps raising where his fingers had caressed.

"We can't do this," she breathed, finally getting free.

"Is that your assessment, or your opinion?"

"Why does everything have to be a matter of fact or fiction with you?" He gracefully gave her a half shouldered shrug. Her anger returned. "I want the truth, and not your version of it. I want it all. What happened to you in Cuba the first time?"

Miranda wasn't expecting an answer. She never expected an answer with him. He always gave her some sort of round about riddle. She was tired of it. So when he opened his mouth and started talking, she was surprised. In fact, surprised was an understatement. She was floored. She sat down beside him in awe and tried not to look like a fish out of water.

"Marisa Casseras was a young, up and coming geneticist. She had a million opportunities at discovering a cure for my...ailment, but she didn't have the money."

"So you leave in the middle of winter and decide to make Cuba your 'vacation' home?" She snapped.

"She contacted me." He continued, ignoring the outburst. "Told me she could work on my diagnosis if she could set up a suitable hospital."

"And you jumped at the chance. She was just another skirt to chase."

"I won't deny that Marisa and I had a relationship."

Miranda flinched. She thought she would be mad at the revelation but instead, she felt pain. She felt an intense amount of pain like her heart had been carved out and stomped into the ground.

"Did you..." she trailed off.

"Did I love her?" He asked picking up the sentence. She nodded. "No, I only stayed in Cuba this last time to tell her why we couldn't be a couple."

She had already gotten up and was heading out the door. She remembered her purse at the last minute. She bent down, scooped it up, and slung it over her shoulder. She stopped when she heard him finish.

She ran her fingers through her hair and turned toward him. "Why couldn't you be a couple?"

"I am dying," Boris said simply. Her eyes narrowed. She reached for the door knob as he said, "and I am in love with someone else."

Miranda dropped her purse, the red leather hit the floor with a dull thud. Seven years and it still didn't get any less surprising. A smirk tugged at her lips and instead of suppressing it, she let it grow into a full on smile, a smile that lit her face up like a Christmas tree. _Welcome home_, she thought as she picked her purse back up and left the room.

* * *

okie dokie then, this is all for the second chapter! w00p w00p! I hope you guys are enjoying it! Please R & R and let me know what you guys think or what I should change!


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